


He had his limp and his inhaler

by thomasbloodygangster



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - High School, Asthmatic Newt, Depressed Newt, M/M, Runner Minho, limp, minewt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 20:49:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5179166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thomasbloodygangster/pseuds/thomasbloodygangster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had this terrible asthma and this limp, and did everything he could not to show it. And it worked. But for Minho, it was different; he seemed to be the only one to notice how the blonde would constantly have to stop during a race to take a few puffs of his inhaler, how he would frequently disappear god knows where in the middle of gym class, or how he skipped sports lessons more and more often.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He had his limp and his inhaler

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much Newtporn for takinf the time read and edit this!

“One last round!” The coach shouted as the students raced along the circuit. 

Everyone was drenched in sweat, running as fast as their legs could allow, breathing unevenly and some of them even bumped into each other to achieve the victory. Everyone but Minho. To wear yourself out from the start of the race was stupid, and was definitely for losers. But Minho knew better. For some people, racing was all about running to keep your body in shape, and eventually winning. For the Korean teenager, it was way more: a race wasn’t just for toughies who had muscles for brains and some shiny six pack on their stomach, no, running was also about reflection, tactics and methods, well thought out strategies… When having an athletic body was an option, having a brain was definitely not one and this was why Minho Park always won races. Right now, he was in fourth place, waiting for the right moment to use his unbeatable sprint finish. Sprint finish was a racing tactic where a competitor accelerated towards top speed in the final stages of a race; quite basic, but it never failed and the black haired boy loved it. A couple feet away from the finish line, a wave of adrenaline lifted Minho’s heart who began to push even harder on his legs, closing the space between him and the end point at an exceptional speed. Overtaking one person to take the third place caused him to smirk from ear to ear, excitement appending to the adrenaline in his body. He passed one more boy, satisfaction evident on his features, as Brenda, his biggest competitor, tried not to show how unsettled she was by her opponent’s sudden burst of energy. With sweat beading on his forehead, he gave one last effort and winked at the distressed brunette as he passed her urging to cross the finish line. Only a few steps left… 3…2…1… The whistle blasted out, resonating through the air to announce the end of the lap. 

Minho cracked one last grin when the coach congratulated him. He headed for his bag, finished his bottle of water in three gulps and as he was about to pick up his towel, the boy felt a light hand on his shoulder. 

“Nice one.” A familiar voice said as he turned around to discover its source. “I have to admit that you are one unbeatable specimen!” Brenda laughed, her dark eyes forming two little crescent moons. 

“Yeah, you’re not bad either.” The teenager answered, half smiling at her as he wiped his sweat off with the back of his hand. With a graceful hand, the girl untied her ponytail to let her soft black hair flow over her face, cascading down her shoulders. 

“Right, but I’ve never beaten you… Yet.” One of her thick brows arched. Minho squinted in annoyance. 

“Obviously. Because I’m the best.” He snapped, this time revealing his white teeth in a grin. 

Brenda shrugged and patted the runner’s back, small brown skin on top of hard chocolate one. She was a bit too touchy and the teenage boy was starting to feel oddly uncomfortable. 

“I’ll catch you later, then?” She finally said, not tearing her wide eyes off Minho’s. 

“I guess.” 

She was walking away when Ben, Minho’s best friend, arrived, his jaw hanging wide open as he watched the girl. 

“She is so hitting on you!” Ben chuckled. 

“Whatever, she doesn’t stand a chance.” 

“Oh come on, man! The hottest girl of the school is asking you out and you refuse because Ô mighty Minho is too good for her? Seriously?” The brown haired kid mocked, nudging hid friend in the elbow only to make him groan. 

“Let it go, shuckface, she didn’t even ask me out, and no I’m not interested!” Minho rolled his eyes. Ben could become such a drag sometimes! 

“Why not?” He insisted. 

But Minho did not respond. He had secretly caught a glimpse of an angel. Sitting alone on the sideline bench, a student was making all the efforts possible to stay discrete, whishing he could somehow disappear into the chair. Sandy blond hair, fair skin, rosy cheeks and long dark lashes fluttering peacefully, mirroring the soft rustle of a butterfly’s wings. His melancholic hazelnut eyes were locked on the ground, and he seemed to be stuck in the depth of his thoughts. His thin lips were partly hidden by his delicate hands which he was leaning on and he didn’t seem to fit in… Even though he was a tall and muscular boy, every inch of his body looked so fragile and ready to break at any second… The screams of their coach caused Minho to jump slightly. 

“Group 2 get ready, the second race is about to start!” The rest of the group who didn’t get a chance to run until now lined up in the circuit and started to warm up by doing all sorts of stretching exercises. “You too, Newton!” 

Blondie snapped out of his daze and a rush of heat flushed his face red. Embarrassed, he stood up and took a few hesitant steps forward, his weight principally supported by his left leg. Nobody really noticed, yet to Minho it was so obvious: he hated to run. He hated sports in general. It had been obvious to the Asian boy for a long time now… 

The British goldy locks always took all the strength possible to stay unnoticed, to be that invisible kid that no one knows about, that nobody knew was in their class. He had this terrible asthma and this limp, and did everything he could not to show it. And it worked. Most of the time, the coach forgot he existed and he stayed on the outlines, as a ghost among the others. But for Minho, it was different; he seemed to be the only one to notice how the blonde would constantly have to stop during a race to take a few puffs of his inhaler, how he would frequently disappear god knows where in the middle of gym class, or how he skipped sports lessons more and more often. He had never really talked to “that shank who was in his sports class”, but he certainly was the only one who saw his struggle. Besides, the runner had never told anybody because exposing his feelings to the world freaked him out, but he had a tiny crush on the “invisible boy”. Well, ‘crush’ was one hell of a word; Minho didn’t know much about love, though he felt… something every time he saw him. And that something was indescribable, he couldn’t place words on it. Each single time he tried to define it, it would lead him to frustration and weird feelings in his stomach. If you had to know one thing about Minho Park, it was that he hated being confused; he appreciated having total control of his body and understanding what was going on. Everything had to be straight and sorted out, otherwise he would get mad. So indeed, butterflies were out of the question. 

After a few minutes of chick-talking (that was what Ben called talking about girls), Coach Jorge blew the whistle: end of lap 2. The young Korean focused back on the runners. Teresa was first, then Thomas… 

“Wait a sec…” Minho whispered to himself, not meaning for anyone to hear. He scanned the stadium, eventually jumping back on his feet. 

“Be right back.” He promised when Ben was about to retort. 

It had happened once again. How on earth did Newt always sneak out without ever being seen? And during a race! Minho first checked the public convenience of the stadium. Nobody. 

All of a sudden, a loud thump filled the air. Muffled words resonated from the other side of the bathroom’s wall: the locker room. It sounded like someone swearing out loud, mixed with quiet sobs. As the teenager neared the changing room, the words became clearer and Minho could make out lots of “shite”s pronounced with such a thick accent they could only belong to one person. Another deafening noise burst through the room, sounding like the slamming of a metallic door. The brunette moved stealthily to the source of the noise and peeked into the locker room. Both strong and frail, a silhouette stood with its back to Minho, its shoulders shaking through silent whimpers and spasms. Soft blonde locks fell over Newt’s ears as he lifted a fist to punch in a locker, beating it up as if it was the cause of his misfortune. As to show his presence, Minho cleared his throat which startled Newt who spun on his feet to discover he was being spied at by a creeper. 

“Uh… Everything okay, there?” The dark skinned boy gave a try, not sure about how to make his classmate comfortable. 

“Yeah, I’m bloody great.” It sounded sarcastic, but for some reason Minho knew it wasn’t meant to be aggressive. 

Blondie wiped his tears away with his sleeve and his gaze met the runner’s almond-shaped eyes. He stared directly at him, his dark brown eyes still moist from the tears. During this split second, everything felt so intense and calm thus the teenager had to keep himself from gulping for fear of breaking the tensed atmosphere. It was the first time they were so close to one another. He couldn’t help but look away before his cheeks started to blush, even though the room was plunged into darkness. 

“I heard you crying from outside. Oh, I’m Minho, by the way.” He allowed himself to sit on the bench facing the blonde. 

“I know who you are.” And with that one sentence, Newt sniffed and sat against the damaged locker on the floor, letting a slight warmth embrace the atmosphere anew. A sly grin spread across Minho’s face. 

“Well? Are we gonna sit here all day, or are we gonna talk?” No, being gentle towards people was definitely not his strong point yet, somehow, Minho could see in the way Newt looked at him that it made him feel more secure and confident. He didn’t treat him like a fragile creature as anyone else would do. No. He approached him as a normal kid would approach a friend. 

“I barely know you…” His husky voice sent shivers running down the darker boy’s spine. 

“Whatever, I’m a good listener. And besides, I know you more than you think.” What was that!? Minho immediately regretted his last words. 

Newt’s dark brows knitted together. “Huh?” 

Minho’s spikey hair did not move an inch when he shook his head in answer. “Never mind. So, what’s the cause of such trouble?” 

With hesitation, the wounded let out a sigh before dropping his gaze to the floor with puffy eyes. 

“I am asthmatic. I have my limp and my inhaler, and that’s pretty much a sum up of my entire life. I used to try, I used to give it a chance, but no matter how hard I try, it never bear fruit. I still suck at sports and I feel particularly useless here, ya know? Anyway, next week this special athletics 

competition takes place. Because it’s the end of the year and we’re seniors and stuff. Although you already knew about it, right?” He didn’t give him the time to answer. “Truth is I want to participate to the race so badly, I’m not even talking about winning, but just being part of it would mean the world to me. But I’m so… nothing. I’m just a pile of buggin’ klunk. Incapable.” A tiny tear formed at the corner of his eye, so tiny actually that Minho almost missed it. Almost. 

“Whoa there, it’s okay!” He urged to move closer to the crying silhouette, sitting next to him on the floor in such a way as to have both their faces hidden by the obscurity. “C’mon shank, don’t be stupid, you can totally win this, I’m sure you can.” 

Newt buried his face in his hand to avoid his classmate’s look. 

“Please don’t tell anyone you saw me cry.” His shaky voice managed to still be cool, even between two wet sobs. Minho nodded, then remembered Newt wasn’t looking at him. 

“Promise. So why do you want to participate so badly, anyway?” 

“My little sister. She’s all that is left of my family, she’s everything I have. She really loves those bloody races, and I want to make her proud. She always was here for me when I went through this… dark period, and I feel so bad for not being the caring big brother that she always wanted… Now I really want to return the favor, and make her as proud as she ever will be. But, shit, I can’t even run five meters without spiting my lungs out!” 

An odd moment of silence fell over the locker room as Minho took in everything the boy had said, trying to figure out a way to help. The thought suddenly hit him, popping out so naturally in his mind that he wondered why it hadn’t occurred to him earlier. 

“I can help.” He simply stated, breaking the heavy silence. 

“What do you mean?” the blonde looked up, sparks lighting his doe eyes. 

“You’re gonna make it, shank. We’re gonna make it. Starting from tonight, we’ll meet at the stadium each evening after class.” 

The look on newt’s face changed from surprise to incomprehension; he tried to proceed to an answer but only stuttered bits of words came out. He didn’t need to answer, the Asian dork didn’t leave him a choice. He headed for the exit, and shot Newt a wink before getting out of sight. 

“Looking forward to this evening!” the British heard from distance. 

[***] 

There he was. His hands nervously playing with the strips of his backpack as he got out WCKD High School’s main building. Why am I even nervous? It’s just Newt. The boy shook his head. That was exactly the problem: it was just Newt; and Newt was just his… tiny crush. And Minho was afraid. 

What if he didn’t come? 

But all the bad feelings streamed away as if they’d never been there. A wave of relief surged all the way down his spine. Newt was there, lying in a puddle of sunshine, eyes closed, chest heaving peacefully. A grin crept on Minho’s face as he got closer to the British boy. 

“Rise and shine, lazy bones.” 

His eyelids softly lifted, revealing two sparkling irises. An almost inaudible chuckle escaped his lips to send a spark of warmth soaring in the Asian’s heart; a sound he never thought he would hear from the blonde. 

“You sound like my granny.” Another sweet chuckle. 

“I doubted you’d come.” 

“Yeah, well I hesitated a lot. Also you’re late.” Newt ‘s smile widened. 

“Right, my friend can be a real pain in the ass sometimes. The shank always wants to know what I’m doing or where I’m going. Took me a while to get away from Mama Ben.” His eyes rolled. 

A soft breeze brushed over their skins before Newt started talking again. 

“So why are we here anyway?” 

“Train, shuckface! What else would we do here… Alone… Just you and me?” The predatory smile on Minho’s face couldn’t mislead anyone, and even though the message wasn’t one bit subtle, Newt’s eyebrows furrowed in incomprehension. He rose his hands in front of him, palms facing the sky. 

“Let’s get started, then?” 

And so they began, Minho showing a few warm up and racing tips to Newt who took the whole training very seriously, who never complained and whose face was alight with a mixture of concentration and motivation the entire time, his features somehow rejuvenated. 

After three circuits and lots of inhaler breaks, ‘coach Minho’ put an end to this training session, and offered his water bottle to his new friend. 

“You did well” Minho saw Newt’s pink lips curl up into a grin as he drank like a fish. 

“Oh, quit the flattering, bloody hell! I had to pause twenty three times!” He jabbed him in the side. The darker boy shrugged. “Twenty three pauses for three lovin’ circuits!” 

“Well at least you ran and you’re alive” the young adult replied with overtones of amusement in his voice. 

“Barely” 

[***] 

“C’mon, dude, I’m your best friend, you’re supposed to tell me everything!” Ben begged. He grabbed Minho’s wrist, pulling him closer over the table and whispered “that’s what lovers do!” A faint laugh escaped his mouth when he realized his friend wasn’t laughing at this joke. 

“You shucking shuck faced klunk…” Minho sighed. 

Both of them dropped their gazes on their meals. At least, at what their cafeteria called a meal. They had hired a young employee one week ago, Frypan as everyone called him, who had a gift for overcooking every single potato he baked. How do you even fail to cook some stupid potatoes? 

“Well? Are you going to at least tell me what in the world do you do every evening after school?” The olive skinned cocked his head to the side. 

 

“Again, that’s none of your business.” Of course he wasn’t going to tell Ben, he didn’t want to betray Newt. The guy hated himself and didn’t want the others to find out about his weaknesses, plus his asthma was synonym of shame according to the British. It was their little secret. 

“I knew it! You’re seeing someone!” Ben exclaimed, hastily pointing at the runner’s cringed face. 

Minho felt his whole body stiffen up. Did he know? Had someone seen them together? He pushed the thought aside, trying hard no to redden. 

“W-what makes you say that?” 

“Ouch, you’re so bad at lying, it is irritating. Tell me everything. Is it a girl? Have you finally succumbed to Brenda’s charms?” An expression of excitement spread over his face. 

“I-“A loud boom echoed from above followed by a couple of white streaks tearing the sky in half. “Shit, it’s a storm.” 

“Uh-oh, I know somebody who’s not going out with Brenda tonight.” Almost in a sing-song voice, Ben started teasing his friend. Again. 

“Shuck it, Ben!” And then Minho was gone. 

[***] 

“It’s raining.” 

“Aye.” 

”Don’t think it’s going to stop any soon.” 

“Nope.” 

“Maybe we should wait.” 

“Yep.” 

“Let’s wait.” Minho whispered. 

Both the boys sat in the bleachers to watch as the rain nearly flooded the stadium. An awkward moment of serenity hung over the atmosphere. 

“It’s not stopping.” Newt stated causing a half asleep Minho to jolt. 

The boy stretched, sprawling out his limbs and felt a rush of cool air entering his mouth as he yawned. He shivered, blinked, and eventually slumped deeper in his seat. 

“Crap… Maybe we should go home.” 

“No!” 

“Huh?” 

“No.” The blonde repeated. “No, I want to train. There are only three days left before the competition. I’m not ready yet.” 

“Yeah, but it’s raining crazy out there, you’re gonna catch a cold or something.” 

“Maybe, but I’ll have all weekend to recover. This is really important, let me do it. Please.” Newt pleaded through pursed lips. 

“You sure?” The teenager looked really concerned, but his friend only gave him a stiff nod in response. 

They did train. Newt did run and Minho did help. Despite his warnings and the dangerously slippery circuit, everything went wonderfully well and they both were pleasantly surprised to discover that Newt had by far progressed. He paused less, managed to steady his breathing while running faster. His results had somewhat increased. It all made Minho feel so proud. Proud of himself, because “I am the most efficient coach you could ever wish for” as to quote precisely, and mostly proud of Newt since he was the progressing one. Tomorrow would be their last training session before the weekend thus before the competition. And it was going to be perfect. 

[***] 

The sky had never been so blue on a Friday. Birds were singing again, grass glimmered from the droplets left by the rain yesterday, the blazing sun shone high… The entire world seemed to have been washed by the storm to appear more beautiful than ever. 

Minho took a deep breath, fresh air filling his lungs when a cold hand came brushing over his bare skin for a second. His eyes locked on a very pale Newt. Something startled him, maybe the unusual look of doom that distorted the blonde’s face or maybe this dark blue-ish stain covering up a part of his left cheekbone. Minho abruptly jumped back on his feet to take a closer look at it. 

“Is that a bruise?” His eyes narrowed in suspicion while Newt’s gaze drifted away as if he couldn’t care less about the question. The dark haired boy rose a both worried and inquiring eyebrow which could very well mean “I’ll pin you to a wall and wait until you answer.” 

By way of answer, he received a sharp glare. “Don’t wanna talk about it.” 

What did that mean? How could he just walk in looking like a zombie and say nothing about it? Unbelievable. This guy had always been a mystery to Minho, and he never stopped surprising him. 

“Well I’m not giving you a choice.” He winced, regretting how hard he had spat the words. It wasn’t Newt’s fault if he had a wound. And although he was about to apologize, his friend’s words came out even more snappy and hurting than Minho’s. 

“Oh yeah, right, I forgot you piece of wanker were the queen here! Well, pardon me father for I am going to sin, but will you for once mind your own bloody business!?” 

The runner cringed from the aggressiveness. Never in his high school years had he thought of seeing his crush so pissed, and it seriously creeped him out. Just as an eerie silence filled the atmosphere, the British spoke up again. 

“I’m sorry, I messed up…” 

“No. No, you’re right, I should really mind my own business, I’ve been acting like a stlinthead.” Minho cracked a tiny smile. “Let’s just pretend this never happened.” That certainly was going to be the hardest thing Minho would have to do, not caring about Newt being bruised, but he had to admit to himself that he could be annoyingly intrusive sometimes. He had to move on and let some privacy to the poor boy, for sure. 

It’d been a few minutes since Newt had started to run without taking any breaks, something incredible for an asthmatic like him, and despite the steady pace that he kept up, Minho could hear his awful breathing each time the boy passed in front of him. He could clearly hear the whistling breathes and the signs of exhaustion, yet the teenager didn’t stop, causing Minho to worry a bit more at each circuit Newt did. Worst of all, he never took out his inhaler, unlike usual. 

As Newt was about to start on another circuit, Minho grabbed his bicep before he could even pass him, driving him to an abrupt stop. 

“You alright?” He never let go of his friend’s arm. 

“Uuh, yes, why?” Newt looked genuinely puzzled. 

“I can hear your breathing, it’s terrible. You should take a break for a while.” 

“No, I’m good, really.” 

Minho’s expression hardened. “I’m not letting you continue in these conditions. And where’s your inhaler?” 

Newt dropped his gaze on his feet. He didn’t seem ashamed, but something more like angry, just like earlier. 

“I… forgot it.” 

A suspicious eyebrow rose on Minho’s face. “You forgot it. You forgot your inhaler.” There was an odd tone of severity in his voice which showed that he didn’t buy this obvious lie. The blond let a sigh escape his lips. 

“… I lost it, okay? Think those buggers stole it from me to make a bloody joke.” 

“Are they the ones who hurt you? Is that why you have a shucking bruise on you cheek? Shit, I’m gonna beat up those suckers!” 

Somehow, Newt looked more pissed than before. He frowned to the point that his brows connected, creating creases of rage on his fair skin, fuming. 

“Minho, you have to stop acting like you’re my buggin’ mom, I have been alone ALL my life, I think I know how to take care of myself now!” There was like a slight trigger which turned his anger into pure pain, as if he had realized how awful his life was, and how he used this as an excuse to unwind towards the only person who cared about him. Newt shook his head and put a gentle hand on Minho’s shoulder, in such a way that the runner could feel the whistle of his uneven breathes blowing on his neck. His voice softened “Now don’t worry, I’m gonna keep up.” And without waiting for an answer, he started running again. 

Minho shuddered. What had just happened? He stared into nothingness for a couple of seconds before eventually turning the chronometer on. 

Everything happened so fast. Newt slowed down and at first, Minho thought he was finally taking a break to catch his breath, so he stopped the chronometer, but then the boy came to a halt and in the distance Minho saw him collapsing on the floor. Not violently, but it looked like his injured leg had gave away under his weight, bringing him to crawl on his knees. Sucking in two deep breaths, the boy had to lean on both his hands, finding himself on all fours, and only three seconds flew by before he collapsed completely, his chest heaving at an unimaginable speed. 

Minho remained frozen for a split second. His heart skipped a beat. Everything had happen so quickly and suddenly, the world was falling apart around him. He had to snap out of his misery and rush headlong for Newt’s limp body to help him. He nearly tripped over the boy, but managed to stop, kneeling to carry his friend’s shaking silhouette. Minho had no idea what to do, and seeing Newt trying to suck back life into his lungs was the most horrible thing that had ever happened to him. So he gently placed the blonde’s head on his knees, and a bunch of thoughts came storming through his 

mind while he started to hyperventilate from panic. Newt’s chest rose and fell terribly fast, each breath sending an inhuman noise echoing through the air. 

“Shit…. I…. can’t…. breathe.” He said, eyes wide in terror. 

Minho was in shock. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything. What was he supposed to do? 

“Shh, d-don’t say anything, focus on your breathing, it… It’s gonna be o-okay.” He eventually said in a shaky voice. Put it together, Minho. Your friend is dying! He was trying to be brave although he was on the verge of tears and felt useless. By this time, everyone in the school must be gone, and he had no inhaler. 

“I’m calling the emergencies, please hang on.” He whispered. 

They told him to keep calm and reassure the victim. They told him that the victim had to breathe slowly and deeply. They told him that they would be there within minutes, and that everything was going to be fine, that asthma attacks were frequent. But that didn’t make him feel better. Newt’s fate was still in the hands of death. But he had to do something. He managed to slightly calm him down, but not enough to stop the attack. 

“Hey, Newt? Can you hear me? Okay, focus on my voice. You have to steady your breaths, panic will only make it worse. I- I’m sorry for being an ass, I should’ve stopped you from running, I’m so sorry.” And he was. Minho felt guilty about all that had happened, if he had insisted more, Newt wouldn’t be struggling to breathe right now. It was his fault and he would never forgive himself. 

To calm him down, Minho toyed with Newt’s soft hair, talking about everything and nothing: how he once fell over a girl who never stopped to stalk him afterwards, how he hated when someone judged him out of his physique and not his mentality, how he was afraid of spiders and how he had a crush on this blinkered guy. Now his breathes were less loud. Still quite uneven, but less than before. 

But then, suddenly, he stopped breathing. Something was wrong. For a few interminable seconds that felt like hours, that one moment that seemed to last a lifetime, Newt’s body immobilized as his empty eyes locked on the blue sky. Peacefully, his eyelids closed as if they were never going to open again. That was when Minho really got to know panic. His vision blurred with tears, once again, the world fell silent thus he could only hear his own heartbeats. Nothing mattered but Newt. Not the beautiful sparkling sun, not the bird’s chanting, not even the distant sirens of the ambulance. Only Newt’s inanimate body. 

[***] 

“Please, I need to see him.” Minho begged in a croaky voice that could not express anything but tiredness. The teenager hadn’t slept a minute all night. Guilt, worry, remorse – all these feelings were eating him away and the dark bags under his eyes couldn’t tell otherwise. 

“I’m sorry, Mister Park, the kid is resting, he had a serious attack yesterday, we want him to recover as fast as possible, I hope you understand.” The doctor said with an apologetic look wrinkling his forehead. 

Understand? Minho could indeed understand that in theory, but he had to see Newt in flesh and bone, had to know that the boy was okay, or else his conscience would never be clean. 

“I promise I won’t make it long, I won’t even talk to him! I just want to see him. Two minutes are more than enough.” 

The doctor sighed. “Two minutes.” 

Minho peeked his head in the hospital room tagged as Isaac Newton. He was there, draped in white sheets, eyes closed, breathing through a transparent mask. The only noises filling the place were the regular beep of the machine, and the sound of heavy breathes caused by the mask. Minho hadn’t noticed the other sleeping silhouette curled up in a ball, on a chair next to Newt. Her arms were hiding her face, but even with that Minho could tell it was the boy’s sister. Same dirty blonde hair, same graceful height, same fragile skin. 

To avoid waking anyone up, the runner walked in on tip-toe and gently closed the door behind him. But then a half asleep voice brought him to freeze. 

“Who are you?” Blondie asked, fatigue evident on her features. She looked slightly younger than the two teenagers but she was the exact replica of her brother, gender swapped version. 

Minho shrugged. “Um, Minho, I’m one of Newt’s fr-“ The girl cut him off, gazing wide eyed at him. 

“Are you the guy who was with my brother when he had his asthma attack? Ooh, I owe you so much, without you Newt would probably be dead, y’know, his lungs are so fragile, I can’t even…” 

“Wait, no. I mean yes, I was with him, but there’s a misunderstanding. It’s actually my fault that he’s here. I’m no savior.” 

”What do you mean?” She arched an eyebrow. 

“The shank asked me for running lessons. He wanted to make you proud. We met each evening after school for training sessions. Yesterday, something was wrong. He had this bruise…” Minho nodded towards the boy. “And didn’t want to tell me who had stolen his inhaler. I tried to stop him at first, but apparently I didn’t try hard enough,” his voice broke into quiet sobs. “He said he wanted to run, that he would be okay, but then I saw him collapsing on the floor and I had no idea what to do…” 

Newt’s sister stood up, she bit her lip and patted the runner on the shoulder. 

“I know how my brother can be a stubborn moron sometimes, this is in no way your fault. Please wipe those tears away, I hate to see people crying, makes me want to join them in their pain.” Both of them let out a chuckle, relief flooding through Minho’s chest. “I’m Sonya, by the way. Glad to meet my brother’s only friend, you must be very special, huh?” 

A grunt boomed out across the room. 

“Who’s throwing a bugging tea party in here? Why are you making so much noise?” Newt had taken his mask off, and a wide grin crept on his face when his eyes met Minho’s. 

“You…” Minho opened his mouth, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything, so he closed it, then opened it again. “You filthy slinthead, don’t you ever do this to me again, understood?! I seriously thought you were gone for good, you shucking shuck!” He knew that verbal violence wasn’t a solution here, but he was so mad at Newt for making him worry like that, and he needed to let it all out. 

“I’m sorry.” Newt burst out into laughter. “But you know you were really convincing when you started to talk about your spider phobia.” The Asian teenager felt a rush of heat on his face. 

“Y-you could hear me?” 

“I’m not bloody deaf, idiot.” He laughed even harder and everyone in the room joined in. 

The surgeon said that Newt was a tough boy, and if he rested all week-end, he could participate to the athletics competition on Monday, and even though Sonya and Minho tried to reason with him, he wouldn’t change his mind. He was going to run. 

[***] 

Ben never ceased to harass Minho with advices until he was forced to go back to the bleachers. Newt came with his sister, as planned, and warmed up in the locker room with Minho. 

“Hey Minho?” 

“Hm?” 

“Don’t let me win. You do your best or I’ll never forgive you.” Well crap, Minho’s cover had been blown. “Promise.” Newt insisted. 

“Ugh, fine.” And here they went, on this sunny day. 

Inhale, exhale, inhale… The runner jumped from one feet to another, taking place in the circuit. 

“On your mark… Get set,” Minho took one last deep breath, the usual wave of adrenaline flowing through his whole body. “GO!” The wild cheers of the crowed filled his ears. 

They had to run three circuits, and only one had been done when Minho, who had been glimpsing on Newt all race long, saw the blond slightly slowing down, efforts distorting his face with pain. 

“Oops, maybe you should care less about the others, next time!” He heard Brenda say as she overtook him once again. 

“I’m not letting you win this!” He yelled, pushing thoughts about Newt aside. 

They were on the edge of beginning a second circuit, so the runner took the opportunity to see how his friend was doing, and it was a good thing that he did so. Newt was leaning hand on his legs thus Minho could almost hear him panting in the distance. When he took a puff of his inhaler, Minho only wanted to help, but he was put in notice by the British who refused by shaking his head. It took all the strength Minho had not to run backwards and help out his crush, but he eventually moved on, reaching for the finish line. 

Brenda was first, then Thomas, then Minho; the others were still running, including Newt. 

He did not win. He did not, yet, even though everybody had crossed the finish line, he never gave up, he surrendered. He was the only runner left on the circuit, and when he came to a halt to take another puff of inhaler, someone in the bleachers started to cheer. 

“YOU GO NEWTON, YOU CAN DO THIS!” Minho spun on his heels to see an excited Ben yelling over the silence. He squinted to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating, but it was still Ben, and now he was smirking at him, thumbs up. He knew. He knew about Newt and Minho. He had always known. 

“That piece of shit.” A goofy grin spread on Minho’s face. 

All of a sudden, the whole crowed started to applaud, joining in to Ben’s cheering, chanting Newt’s name in an encouraging rhythm. 

“NEW-TON, NEW-TON, NEW-TON…” The cheers were wilder than ever, louder as well, people clapped with hands and feet, they kept cheering until the very end. 

Newt made it. No, he wasn’t first, no he wasn’t winning this, but he made it. He proudly crossed the finish line before he fell on his knees, a bright smile that Minho had rarely seen on his crush’s face. 

With strong arms, the teenage boy lifted Newt to a stand and nudged him in the rib. 

“I knew you could do it.” He had barely finished his sentence when a pair of soft lips crashed onto his as he nearly fell. Surprise struck him, then revelation, and at last, he kissed back. Neither the repugnance of their sweaty bodies nor the non-stopping chant of the crowd stopped them. They were as one.

**Author's Note:**

> I based this on my personal experience with asthma, I don’t know if it’s the same for the others.


End file.
